


Terror-of-filmic.

by Bhalia



Category: Psychopath Diary (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Dark!Yook Dong Shik, Gen, Horror movie obssesion, Psychologic study, Psychopath Yook Dong Shik, Unhealthy Obsessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhalia/pseuds/Bhalia
Summary: Dong-shik liked horror movies. He liked to watch the victim suffer for an insatiable killer, who only wanted to see the blood running through his hands. He liked to see the reddish color stain everything around them. He loved when their eyes slowly lost their lives with their last breath. He loved when evil won and took away the last thing they had left.That's why, he wanted to be that evil as well.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Terror-of-filmic.

Since he was a child, Dong-shik was interested in horror films.

The feeling of watching those raw, terrifying scenes was his favorite activity. Scenes where the killer slowly chased the poor victim unnoticed of the danger had always filled his heart with a strange feeling. As if it were beginning to beat fast and his hands were trembling with the thought of seeing more. 

He'd always loved the suspense. The story of the protagonists having no time to escape from a situation that would cost them their lives, or because a creature of evil was stalking them was what kept him on the edge of his chair to find out what was going to happen next. His eyes dilated with every second that passed, while the outcome was closer.

The unexpected, the despair, the tangible terror in the eyes of the unfortunate characters was something that had always seemed interesting to him.

He thought at first, it was because of the suspense of the scenes. The music, the setting, and everything else was so heavy that he could cut it with a knife if he wanted to. He was completely absorbed in the story, and could barely take his eyes off the screen. Even when they were scenes of torture, of screams of terror, or of moments that made his pressure rise to the ceiling. The scene seemed to be the perfect moment, he thought it was perfect. 

But, as he got older, he realized how boring it was. The suspense became predictable, and the terror became pure boredom. The films he watched in those years didn't have an ounce of the insight or cunning that characterized them. Nothing made him feel satisfied and dizzy at the same time.

It was as if they started to become unreal.   
And it wasn't supposed to be like that. Because the villains, the monsters, the ghosts and above all, the killers, were bad.   
But he didn't see it that way. He found them _interesting **.  
**_

But he didn't care about that. Something in the movies made him feel drawn to them. The graphic of a murder, the surprise of a fear, the mysteriously inexplicable motives were something he appreciated in a good horror story.  
As he watched a sharp knife gleam in the moonlight, before being thrust into the chest of a secondary character, or as he watched a long, tight rope being wrapped around someone's neck, causing their cheeks to turn a purple blue. Or even when he heard the bloody scream where life was slowly melting away. 

Yook Dong-Shik liked it.

There were times when he wondered how his hands would feel if they had to deal with the life of another individual, being the one who decided the fate of an ordinary person. _ **  
**_

And those ideas lasted for years afterward, until he was an adult, because he buried those dark thoughts in the deepest part of his head when his mother's death happened. He thought that the movies were lying, that the feeling he had in his heart was the weight of pain, and that the tremor was his tears being held back. Somehow he felt betrayed. Was the feeling of watching someone die really one of despair?

He felt like the protagonist who felt hopeless because he didn't see a light on the road, or so he thought.   
Or that's what he believed at some point. 

He grew up and his heart felt betrayed. Yet deep down, he couldn't deny that he was still captivated by the things that should not be right.

The movies were fiction, the actors were still alive, the villains didn't attack anyone, and no one died at the end of the day. And he found that boring. Of course, he didn't wanted his real life to be like the graphic films, retro thrillers movies or even the gore comics that he'd been a fan of since he was a kid. But he couldn't really lie to himself when deep down he knew that the only thing that had really betrayed him was that it wasn't as exciting as he expected it to be.

And that's what hurt him the most. 

And he grew up to be a shy, boring employee who walked discreetly by others and the only interesting thing was that he was used as a scapegoat in his work. That's not how he wanted his life to be. He was bored. The feeling of the monotony of how perfect the world seemed to be, without a power that disturbed them to the bone was insipid. The world was not like fiction, and that was what he despised most.

He hated life because it had given him the illusion of something that was wrong. And the idea that it was like that, he couldn't stand it anymore.

Although at some point he was willing to end his life, to stop feeling so betrayed, he was unable to do it. Coward, he told himself, as he stared into the vast, empty void that lay dark on the bottom.

His own death hadn't caught his interest that much, apparently. 

And he hated it.

When he watched a scene of a murder, where blood dripped to the ground, staining the perpetrator's hands, He'd always thought it was something that took his breath away, perhaps because it felt realistic, it felt intimate and perfect but at the same time, it was forbidden. 

Like a guilty pleasure.

But he never imagined that in his so insipid and monotonous life, he would be blessed with the luck to see it with his own eyes. 

He watched as a spectator when the scruffy man begged for his life to be spared. He detailed his shining face in stains of a dirty carmine color, his expression of pain, and the dirtiness of the floor. He was minutes away from witnessing his life being ended without remorse.

And he also saw the killer. 

He'd heard on the news about a couple of deaths that happened over the years in his hometown. His geek mind made him think that somehow there was a culprit behind it all. The idea of someone macabre roaming around the city, doing crazy things at night, was still interesting to him.

And there, right now, it wasn't just interesting, _**it was fascinating.**_

  
How those eyes that were still alive watched in fear their fate that was slowly coming to catch them. Their whimpering cries and panic spilled out in a desperate and throaty How he still clung to their last hope. 

And how that hope was shattered right in front of his eyes.

So human and raw at the same time.

Dong-shik liked horror movies. He liked to watch the victim suffer for an insatiable killer, who only wanted to satisfy his thirst for killing left and right. He liked to see the death stained in every corner of a room, he liked to see the madness snatching away the remnants of humanity from someone else.

And, without a doubt, he liked to see the murderer in front of him killing that poor man.

He watched in detail the steps of the man dressed in black. When he took in his hands one of the metal bars of the building construction, holding it firmly between his fingers, when he approached to his prey and finally, when he used it to attack them.

The whining was like music in his ears. The crunching sound of bones cracking and the stickiness of flesh being crushed was far better than he'd ever imagined in his wildest dreams. How he beat and beat, and stained himself with the nasty blood.

Silencing the screams, echoing louder and louder, with the red stain soaking everything close. A dark, filthy, smelly mess, the only thing left of what was once was a living person, who had their own dreams and hopes.

_And he smiled._

It was twisted. He knew very damn well, his mind told him that was something he should not enjoy so much, but the murder was enigmatic, it was heartbreaking, and above all, it was beautiful in his eyes.

That scene was what made him understand once and for all. His heart twisted in ecstasy, his hands trembled in excitement, his lips rose in a crooked, dark smile. And that's when he finally understood something.

He understood that he wanted to be that. He wanted to do the same thing, to see his hands being what separates life from death. That they were stained with the freshest, reddest blood he could get, and he wanted to be the only who watched life slowly fading away, who listened to the last words, wanting to be the last person to witness it.

He wanted to see death happening in front of his eyes again and again until there was no end.

_Dong-shik wanted that, he wanted to become a person who could do that._


End file.
